Alas We're Gone
by Wicked-Roxanne
Summary: God is cruel. Sometimes he makes you live. - Psych Ward AU - Trigger Warning: Self harm, mentions of abuse and basic tragedy. Implied drug use.


It was tragically funny how words could hurt you so much. It was just words. How were they stronger than a knife? Or any other weapon. But they might have just been any other words, but these stung. They physically hurt your heart. You could feel it. Maybe it wouldn t have been so terrible if you had somebody beside you, but ha, that s so funny. Everybody hates you, you fucking freak show. Why would anyone befriend you?

Your parents had done all they could to the school, but nobody ever did anything. They overlooked what teenagers really were. They were monsters or maybe even the staff was scared shitless? The students could care less of somebody ll bleed, and oh, you bled.

Now a days, you find yourself living in the bathroom embedded in the hall outside your bedroom. It s like your shell. Your shell you had on your body had been ripped clean off, and for now, this was your shell. Your house, almost. Maybe it was just because you were a bit crazy, but the bathroom seemed to be living.

When you cried you could almost imagine it s shushing sounds and it s attempts to hold you and console. Oh wow, you were so alone you depended on a bathroom to feel better? Pathetic.

That choice word described you well. Pathetic. You were the angry type but again, you had more bark than bite.

After walking home today, you thought long and hard. So long. You finally stopped walking and just stared at the ground. You finally realized you had given up. This was your body. If someone was hurting you, you have a right to self defense! Right? You hope to hell and back you were right.

Sitting on the toliet, you again can imagine the bathroom asking why you were crying. But sadly, you never said anything back. You never talked to this bathroom because you were probably nuts and bathrooms can t speak. But you wouldn t be surprised, with what? All the fucked up shit in this world.

You sighed and got up, looking through the cabinets and other random hiding spots. Finally in the drawer, you found it. A razor.

It was thick yet small, shining and deadly. And so tempting. It was like an attractive human being that you could stare at all day but would you make a move? Yes, today you were.

You slowly abscended to the ground and leaned up against the bathtub. Just two slits. It would be all it took, right? RIGHT? You weren t playing yourself, were you?

But you were a tease, blade against wrist. Just breaking skin by the pressure but not enough to bleed. You finally slashed. Done. But you weren t done, not in a long shot.

The next was easy because you generally were just high right now. High off the adrealine rush that was the thin line between life and death. It was funny how a razor could end your life.

Crimson blood dripped through the cuts as you put down your razor. And fell back against the bathtub. It would be all over, soon. All over. You could almost hear the bathroom s frantic cries and screams, concerned of course.

You finally were feeling dizzy and shut your eyes. You could feel the blood flowing out of you, it was such a shocking feeling. Like a water bottle that has a hole in it and the water coming out.

You woke up. Well almost. You were in a field, tall golden grass and one single tree. The sun was warm and crisp and made your skin tingly with a wonderful sense. Oh, why would you ever want to leave this place? It was perfect

But you were ripped away from your happy ever after, too soon and too quick. You heard sirens, and cries, sounding like your mother, your father yelling and shaking you, his clothes most likely covered in your blood that covered the bathroom floor. You almost wanted to cry and scream for the assholes to leave you alone but you felt somebody pick you up and rush outside.

The cold autumn air made your wrists sting and burn and you were lifted up in a bed and secured. You blacked out again however, but the perfect didn t return. You were in a black room, tied up. Blind folded. It sounded so much like your life already though. How was that torment?

You remember bits and pieces of the amubulance. Machines swaying quickly as the vehicle raced on the road. You wish you got stopped by a light or something so you would just die but it was too late for that. The medics had wrapped up your suicide attempt (sounds like how the family and the press would! Haha!) you could almost laugh at your twisted joke if you were fully awake.

You couldn t believe it. Any of this. People want you to be happy and this would have made you happy. If you could even feel happiness, you were numb.

Numb.

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS and you wanted to be happy. 


End file.
